


The Vampire (Who Started It All)

by ThatAnnoyingBella



Series: Grow Old Together, We Do [2]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Car Sex, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, Idiot Smith, Knives, Origin Story, Play Fighting, Teasing, Urban Magic Yogs, he's an idiot, kelpie!smith, selkie!Trott, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-16 21:12:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAnnoyingBella/pseuds/ThatAnnoyingBella
Summary: When Smith met Trott.





	1. You Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, last origin story (Probably. Maybe. No promises). I really love these, because this way, I have a head canon for each character's backstory. Makes things much easier. Anyway, this is Smith meeting Trott. Much like The Stone Man, this will be in three small segments.

Smith put out his hands to save himself, but it was futile - they crumpled underneath him as two hands fisted his shirt and held him bodily to the sand. A wave broke and crashed over them, and Smith spluttered, trying to push himself up. The man above him punched him in the back of one of his large shoulders, then turned Smith over, shifting so that he was straddling the tall man.

“What the fuck have you got to say, asshole?!” The man spat. Smith’s eyes widened. This man wasn’t human; the strength in his arms, the speed of him, the way his eyes seemed to glow was frightening. Smith struggled, bucking his hips and trying to wriggled his arms free from the man’s iron grip, but to no avail.

“ANSWER ME, YOU FUCK!” The man released Smith’s arms, and for a moment, he thought he might get off easy this time, but then a huge fist slammed into his cheek, and not long after, two hands wrapped tightly around his throat, squeezing. Smith gasped, trying to pull the man’s arms free. The grip the fae had was insanely strong, and Smith started to panic as he realised that he couldn’t break it.

His vision started to become black and fuzzy, and fear surged through Smith. His eyes started to water, and he tried desperately to breathe, gasping and wheezing. Just as he thought he was done for, a lithe man leapt from the shallow water onto the man’s back, stabbing him with a vicious stroke that dragged him gracefully down to Smith’s other side along with the attacker. 

Smith gasped, inhaling wildly, before coughing and choking, sobs rising in his throat. Distantly, he heard the sounds of a struggle, and when he looked up, the small attacker - the man who’d saved him - was stabbing the body of the man who’d tried to choke Smith a few more times in the chest, grunting each time. Blood, dark and glistening in the moonlight, pooled around the slumped figure, staining the sand and getting caught in the white wash of water that just barely touched the area by the attacker’s dripping hand.

For a moment, Smith’s gaze seemed locked on the hand. The hand that could have killed him, he thought. Then another hand, a skinny, bloody hand with frayed fingernails, clicked rapidly in his face, making him jump. The man who’d saved him sat in front of him, eyes tired and lips parted in a pant that left a cloud of steam. His floppy brown hair fell in front of his eyes, and one bird-like arm held much of his body weight.

“Now, pray tell, you fucking idiot, what the fuck you did to piss off a vampire.”

Smith blinked, confused. “He was a-”

“A fucking vampire, yeah.” The man in front of him gazed hard at him, then shook his head just the tiniest bit, before rearranging his legs, pulling out a cloth, and starting to clean off his knife.

“Well,” Smith sighed, “I killed his daughter.”

The man froze, eyes looking at Smith disbelievingly. “You’re joking.”

Smith shrugged uncomfortably, and the man opened his mouth again, saying, “You don’t know what you did, do you?”

Smith met the man’s eyes, and watched as the man swore, then efficiently explored every one of the vampire’s pockets, tucking away clearly worthwhile items into his own. He didn’t move when the man stood, or when he quickly and efficiently touched the hilt of each of the many blades hidden on his person. Only when he realised the man was speaking did he pay attention.

“What?”

Brown eyes locked with Smith’s, and the man threw up his hands, irritated. “Will you fucking listen? I know you must be pretty fucking stupid to have gotten yourself into this shit, but at least get out of it before you start daydreaming. Hope that girl was a good fuck.”

“How did you-?”

The man rolled his eyes, “You have lipstick on your neck, genius." Then, as an afterthought, he stuck out one filthy hand and added, "I'm Trott."


	2. Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith and Trott's relationship, a comparison between uptight young Trott, and totally carefree new-to-the-city Trott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy. This one took me a little bit, but enjoy.

Smith didn’t remember the night before, but by the look on the face of the man knocking on his car’s back window, and the sticky feeling of a naked leg pressed against his hip, he could guess what had happened. Smith gave a tight, slightly pained smile to the man, who walked off in disgust, then looked down at himself. He was full clothed, but Trott was naked from the waist down.

 

Smith must have fallen asleep before he got off. Or passed out, given how completely wasted he was. Smith felt like utter shit, but still found it within himself to laugh when he realised that they were laying in his car, on the main street of this part of the city, at 1pm on a Saturday afternoon.

 

Funnily enough, they’d done the same thing on their first night in the city.

 

 

Two bell-bottom clad hips bumped, the slick golden pants of Trott catching the red and pink lights in a sensual manner. Smith’s button up was quickly becoming a cape as more and more buttons were undone, and nobody seemed to want to stop dancing, despite the terrible heat of the place. _ _I Will Survive__ , fresh and new and so goddamn catchy, blasted loudly over the sounds of wet lips, laughing, vomiting, and, distantly, someone calling for another round of beers.

 

It wasn’t long before the two friends-turned-lovers stumbled out of the bar, chuckles and giggles exchanged as they jumped into Smith’s pale yellow 1970 Ford Torino, sliding on dark brown leather that was supple from extended use, bumping elbows against panels of plastic coated wood. They were like teenagers, clashing teeth and squeezing too hard, and _ _fucking in the back of a car, in direct line of sight of the bar they’d just walked out of.__

 

__

Trott hadn’t always been so carefree and comfortable with Smith. When they’d first met, Trott had made himself a target for Smith, by killing the vampire-macho-man of his seaside community. They’d been forced to flee together, and Trott had hated the forest, spited Smith for being the reason that he was there. Smith had tried his best to behave, but once he started to relax around Trott, his polite demeanour had slipped.

 

 

“Hey, Trott, are selkies always midgets?” Smith’s playful tone force a small, irritated exhale from Trott, who was angrily pushing his way through a patch of particuarly thick brambles.

 

Trott whipped around. “Are Kelpies always so fucking annoying?!”

 

Smith hesitated, then grinned, “You love me.”

 

Trott’s dark eyes bored into Smith’s in a silent threat, and he turned sharply, continuing his futile attempt at getting through the bush blocking their path. “You know, if you weren’t such a lazy shit, you could just jump both of us over this fucking thing.”

 

“Are you suggesting that you want to ride me? I didn’t realise you were into that, Trotty-Too-Hotty.” Smith didn’t try to hide his shit-eating grin from behind the smaller man.

 

“Stop horsing around.”

 

Smith mouth dropped open dramatically. “TROTTY-TOO-HOTTY! Was that an attempt at a joke? Does this mean we’re friends now? Oh, we’re going to have so much fun! We’ll go make flower crowns and braid your girly hair, and roll down grassy hills with our white dressed flowing behind us, and little yellow flowers getting stuck up our asses because rolling down hills is messy and you’re into that shit (obviously).”

 

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Trott was staring at Smith incredulously. “Where do you even come up with this shit?”

 

Smith opened his arms wide, then pretended to flip his hair. “I’m talented, man, we’ve been over this. Hey, I forgot to mention it, but there’s a path through the brambles over there,” Smith stated, pointing over to the right of where Trott had been working.

 

Trott’s head snapped over to the small gap in the bush, and he turned to Smith, eyes ablaze. “You ‘forgot,’” he echoed, tone dangerously low.

 

A smug smile crept onto Smith’s face, and Trott lunged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought :)  
> I think this one was a bit weak, personally.


	3. "Hey Sunshine"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The passing of time is such a pitiful thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit stuck with how I wanted to wrap this one up. I liked the idea of highlighting a changing relationship, and the feeling of nostalgia. Let me know if it came off well - it was a bit of a poor effort, but I am happy with it. I think.

Trott walked into the flat, the door making an irritating scraping sound as it closed, being slightly too large for the doorway. His brown hair flopped over his eyes, and his white shirt was wrinkled. Smith noticed that the buttons were done up wrong. Trott threw his keys at the coffee table in the living room and walked into the kitchen. Smith watched over the breakfast bar as Trott threw back his head with a beer firmly held against his lips, leaning on one arm angrily.

“Hey, did you get stuck in traffic?” Smith cut the silence, concerned.

Trott looked up, the muscle to the right of his top lip twitching as it did when Trott was seriously disturbed. “No.”

“Well,” Smith hesitated, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Smith flinched as Trott slammed the beer bottle down onto the breakfast bar, and raised an eyebrow. “Mate-”

“Why the fuck did you kill Mary?” Trott hissed, livid. Smith flinched.

“Trott-”

“Smith, you can’t keep doing this.”

Smith felt anger rise up. “As if I’m not trying!”

“Please,” Trott laughed coldly, “You have never tried.”

“Trott-”

“Trott!” Ross interrupted, striding through the glass patio door. He’d been out on the roof, and he looked overjoyed to see Trott home. “I thought I heard your voice!”

Trott lolled his head one side tiredly, and smiled through the kitchen door at Ross. “Hey sunshine.”

 

“Hey sunshine.”

Smith opened his eyes, squinting and letting out a groan at the bright light filtering through the curtain-covered window. Trott hovered over him, his mop of brown hair messy from sleep. Smith’s tongue was furry and he knew he was badly hungover by the pounding in his head. Trott smirked as Smith scrunched up his nose, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“We have to drive to Barnes today,” Trott said. Smith groaned, and Trott continued, “Over gravel roads.”

 

“Hey sunshine”

Smith smiled widely as Trott exited the airport, and opened his arms, wrapping Trott up tightly. Smith and Trott hadn’t been apart like this since they met, and Smith had missed the short man like he was a limb. Trott rubbed his forehead into Smith’s chest, laughing. “I missed you too.”

Smith squeezed Trott until he groaned in protest, and starting rocking back an forth dramatically. “I DON’T WANT ANYBODY ELSE! WHEN I THINK ABOUT YOU, I TOUCH MYSELF!” Smith belted __The Divinyals__ at the top of his lungs, and ran to the car, laughing, and Trott punched him, scolding him for making a scene.

“Scene, Shmeme, Little Foot.”

 

“Hey sunshine.”

Smith glanced over his shoulder at where Trott was dinking on the back of Smith’s (totally not stolen) bike. “Yeah?”

Trott smiled, and hesitated, letting Smith gaze into his beautiful eyes before speaking again.

“Tree.”

“Wha-”

Smith spun back to look ahead of himself, and swore as he felt Trott nimbly leap from the bike. His curses turned to manly screaming as he saw a tree quickly approaching.

“Fucking- Trooooooot- Ahhh!”

 

“Hey sunshine.”

It was such a small phrase, but one that meant so much to Smith. Where did all the time go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Everything I write is written to a song. Who I Am was written to "Photograph" by Ed Sheeran, especially the line about tasting the mountain grass he rolled down, The Stone Man was to "Elastic Heart" by Sia, and The First was to "Gun In My Hand" by Dorothy.  
> The Vampire (Who Started It All) was to a bunch of 70's and 80's music - most specifically, "I Will Survive," and "We Didn't Start The Fire." The Vampire is noticeably more playful because of it, and was certainly the weirdest to write, since I was singing while writing! Oh, hang on, let's not forget "I TOUCH MYSELF"

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment telling me what you think!  
> If you are interested, in my head canon, Smith met Trott in 1969. The first scene in the car would be late 1978, the bar 1973, and the scene in the forest is again 1969, only two weeks or so after the first chapter of The Vampire. META.


End file.
